


Going South

by kingkonglomerate



Category: Banjo-Kazooie Series
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Romance, Post Banjo-Tooie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkonglomerate/pseuds/kingkonglomerate
Summary: He enjoyed the home life. She wanted adventure. For this to work, they’d have to meet somewhere in the middle.(In which the bear and bird duo try to suss out their differences)
Relationships: Banjo & Kazooie (Banjo-Kazooie Series), Banjo/Kazooie (Banjo-Kazooie Series)
Kudos: 26





	Going South

The best part of any adventure was coming home.

Well, “home” was a bit out of sorts at the moment - a well-aimed curse from a vengeful hag had seen to that. He intended to fix the place up, of course, but the weather around the mountain was so lovely this time of year that he could nary find it in himself to give a house much thought. Winter was well off, after all, and, well…he wasn’t much of a handyman, really.

He stared up at the fluffy clouds as they leisurely passed by, plucking idly at the strings of his namesake instrument as he tuned them. He had always had an ear for music, or so he had been told. It was a fine enough talent, he supposed - one he could at the very least enjoy from the comfort of a well-shaded hammock on a breezy summer morning (or was it afternoon? He hadn’t checked the time for a while...).

Regardless, whatever it was, it was enough.

For him, at least.

“Hey, Banjo.”

A shrill warble punctuated the summer ambiance as his blue knapsack addressed him from its place on the grass next to him. From a half glance he saw a small, feathery creature emerge beak-first from the main pocket, its fiery plumage cast in stark contrast with the surrounding green landscape.

“What is it, Kazooie?” he answered, still plucking at his strings.

“This is boring,” she said simply, flapping her wings as she ruffled her feathers in an apparent show of discontent. “Let’s go on another adventure already.”

He let out a lazy sigh.

“We only just finished a big adventure, Kazooie,” he droned, speaking through a yawn that amplified his already distinctive voice. “Can’t the next one wait another couple years?”

He was suddenly aware of a small weight on his chest as his companion leapt onto it, her sharp talons poking slightly into his skin as her bright emerald eyes glared into his own.

“You’re such a lazybear!” she squawked, the tip of her beak pressing uncomfortably into his large nose. “If you had your way, you’d spend every day swaying in the breeze like a sack of mouldy potatoes!”

He looked down his nose at her, going slightly cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her glowering green irises.

“Aw, c’mon Kazooie,” he answered imploringly, shifting slightly as he tried to sit up to address her from a less vulnerable position. “It hasn’t even been a month since we got back! Can we at least split the difference a bit?”

She let out a huff as she shot a derisive look towards the horizon, crossing her wings defiantly across her canary chest.

“If you think I’m gonna wait another two years for you to get off your big brown butt, you’re sadly mistaken,” she grumbled, her gaze fixed on the rolling hills beyond their little valley. “We’re adventurers. What kind of adventurers spend so little time _adventuring?_ People don’t call us heroes for sitting around and playing dumb instruments all day…”

He stood up more sharply at that, causing her balance to waver.

“It’s not dumb!” he retorted, his tone betraying some hurt. “My pa always said I was born to play the banjo! Besides, I know you like playing your kazoo just as much…”

Her gaze fell away from the landscape, an unusually wistful look in it as she trilled out a sigh.

“I do…” she conceded, looking back at him with those strangely longing eyes. “I enjoy all our time here, Banjo, but…”

But the words didn’t come. Instead, she let out another sigh as she settled into his lap, her beak drooping over the edge of the hammock as they swayed.

“Forget it…” she murmured.

He gawked. In all the years he had known her, Kazooie had never left a thought unfinished, for better or worse.  
This, and the forlorn look on her face, was enough to distract him from his idle plucking, and he set the instrument down gently against the tree behind him. Turning back, he regarded the deflated form of the bird now draped over his legs.

“What’s wrong, Kazooie?” he asked earnestly, laying a gentle hand on her feathered back.

She sighed again.

“I…” she began, picking at a loose thread in the mesh with her beak. “I just enjoy getting out is all. I didn’t realize how much I had missed doing that stuff until this last outing…and I don’t wanna wait so long to do it again…”

He absently ran his fingers through her bristles as he pondered his response.

“Maybe…” he continued slowly, trying to piece the words together like so many jiggies. “Maybe...you should go on your own adventure?”

At this she craned her neck back up, shooting him a suspicious look.

“Whaddya mean?”

He gulped.

“Well, you’re a pretty tough little bird,” he continued, and he saw her chest puff ever so slightly at the words. “And you showed you could handle yourself alone a lot on this last one, so…”

He finished with a shrug and sheepish grin as he quietly braced for another shrill berating. This did not come, however, and instead he watched as his companion’s bright eyes trailed away from him, a cloud of uncertainty obscuring them.

“I...guess I could…”

Her head swivelled around to face the horizon once again, the sun casting her plumage in a brilliant shimmer. Squatting so often in his knapsack as she did, he didn’t often get the chance to appreciate a sight like this, nor the distinct sensation of her soft feathers poking through his fingers...

As he further considered it, the notion of her absence seemed a lot less agreeable...

Presently, however, he heard her sigh again.

“But…” she began, her usually quick-tongue again faltering. “I...it...would…”

“It wouldn’t be the same…”

He saw her glance back at him from the corner of his eye as he finished her thought, still running his paw pensively through her feathers. Even without looking directly, the sunlight in her grass-green irises dazzled him.

He perceived her nodding slowly.

“Yeah…” she concluded.

They sat there in silence for some moments, each grappling with their own thoughts on something that had until now always been taken for granted.

In another uncharacteristic turn, he was the one to break the silence.

“How about this Autumn?” he offered, and he almost jumped as she suddenly whirled around to him, her talons positively digging into his chest as her brilliant eyes filled his vision, her face pressed directly against his.

“Really?!” she brreed, her wings gripping his cheeks painfully as she continued to ogle him pupil to pupil. “Even if there’s no witch?! Even if there’s no game for it?!”

He gently pushed her away from his face as he smiled dumbly at her.

“Sure!” he laughed, struggling to temper her quivering excitement. “It’s gonna get too cold to stay here without a house anyway, so how about we start going south for winter? That’s what birds usually do anyway, right?”

His struggles proved vain as the little spitfire suddenly surged forwards, breaking his feeble grip as she launched herself at him, wrapping her little wings tightly around his neck and jamming her cheek into his nose as she aggressively nuzzled him.

“You’re the best, Banjo!!” she shrieked, maintaining her strangling embrace even as he gulped for air. He wasn’t so desperate as to ruin the moment, however, and he returned the gesture as he wrapped his arms around her small form and pushed his cheek into hers.

“...But for now,” he added at length, pulling away from her as she finally relaxed her hold enough for him to breathe normally, “would it be alright if we sat here and played our dumb instruments?”

She smiled back at him warmly before gently pecking his nose in what he could only assume was some form of birdly affection.

“Alright, lazybear,” she cooed, hopping down into his pack and emerging with her kazoo a moment later, once again settling on his legs. “Gimme a tune, would ya?”

Reaching over his shoulder and retrieving his instrument, he happily obliged, plucking out a familiar number as his twanging tones harmonized with a buzzing blare that filled the valley around them with a delightful cacophony.

It certainly helped to have a home that he could carry in a knapsack.


End file.
